


Thought Journey, Jake

by iamthececimonster



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: ADHD, F/M, Jake Peralta has ADHD, Mental Illness, Stim, Stim Toys, Supportive squad, don't fucking @ me, i have a masters degree in telling you jake peralta has adhd, i will fight you, no seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-05 03:15:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15855108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamthececimonster/pseuds/iamthececimonster
Summary: The 99 gets a new psychiatrist. She requires that everyone gets an eval. Jake finds out he has ADHD. Supportive fam is supportive.





	Thought Journey, Jake

**Author's Note:**

> I meant for this to be a one shot. It got wildly out of hand. (I would lose my whole cool if they made ADHD Jake actually canon. We all know it's true anyway)
> 
> Shout out to Jimmy, James, and Leah for beta'ing this for me, I would be nowhere without y'all. (All mistakes are my own but I might blame James just cuz it's fun and he lets me.)

The morning they were going back to work after their honeymoon, Jake was bouncing so much from excitement that Amy felt like her eyes were going to be stuck rolling around their sockets. 

“Is my company that repulsive to you?” She said with a grin, leaning against her husband (her husband!) in their bedroom to give him a gentle kiss on the cheek. 

“What!?” Jake whipped to face her, eyes wide. “No, no! Ames!”

Amy cut him off with a hand to his chest. “I’m kidding, Jake. I’m excited to be back at work, too. I missed everyone.”

“Oh.” He smiled, winding his arms around her waist. “I mean, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind us being a little late on our first day back…” he started.

“Stand down, Peralta.” Amy’s voice was stern, but the corner of her mouth was twitching with a smile. 

“Excuse you, Sergeant. It’s Santiago-Peralta, thank you. I’m married now.” Jake leaned back, arms still wrapped around his wife’s waist. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry Detective. My apologies, how could I possibly forget.” Her smile was wide and bright. 

“Mmm.” Jake leaned in and kissed her again, “Don’t worry, I’ll remind you. Sergeant Santiago-Peralta.” He grinned and kissed her nose. 

“Oo, I like the sound of that.” Amy repeated it, “Sergeant Santiago-Peralta. Sounds good, doesn’t it?”

“It really does.” Jake stepped back, and grabbed Amy’s arm. “Now come on, Sergeant Santiago-Peralta, or we’re going to be late!”

“Excuse me, who are you and what did you do with my husband?” Amy laughed, following Jake to the living room. He just grinned back at her. 

She tugged the keys from his twitching fingers, knowing he was liable to accidentally cause an accident in his excitement if she let him drive. The entire way to the precinct, he was tapping his feet on the floor of the passenger seat well, bouncing his knees, and fiddling with his badge on the chain around his neck. When they finally got into the bullpen, Charles about erupted in excitement. 

     “They’re back!” he shouted in a voice Amy was pretty sure they could hear all the way in the bodega across the street. “America’s favorite couple is back!” He clapped his hands in front of him in glee. 

Amy grinned in spite of herself, and looked at Jake. He was grinning, though he was squinting slightly at the volume of Charles’ excitement. 

“It’s good to see you, too, buddy.” He said, as Charles threw himself against Jake’s chest for a hug. Jake wrapped his arms around his best friend tightly. 

Before Charles could get a chance to ask about the food in Paris, Rosa sauntered over. She pulled Amy into a one-armed hug and punched Jake’s shoulder. 

“Missed you, man.” She nodded to him. 

Gina sashayed over and leaned against Jake’s shoulder. “Please never leave again. None of these assholes look halfway decent in a snapchat filter.” 

Terry rolled his eyes before pulling Jake into a bone crushing hug and Amy into a slightly-less-so one. “How was Paris? Was it romantic? Did you go to the Lourve?”

Jake interrupted with a smile, bouncing on his toes. “You can see all about our honeymoon in the scrapbook when my wife is done with it and I promise I will give everyone a detailed play by play. But first. Give me the dirt. Anything good happen here while we were gone?”

Immediately, the squad launched into stories. 

“Hitchcock drank Charles’ desk yogurt on accident and spit it all over Scully.” Rosa deadpanned. 

“It wasn’t bad for bat milk.” Scully added from across the room. 

“Bat milk?!” Jake grimaced. Amy felt a little sick to her stomach at the thought. “Really, Charles?”

“Well, you see…” Charles started.

Gina interrupted. “Terry tried to use a new ergonomic desk chair and broke the arm rests with his fists on day one.” 

“Terry has a strong grip.” The man shrugged, flexing his fingers. “Obama liked one of Gina’s tweets. I think it was an accident.”

“Obama liked your tweet and you didn’t IMMEDIATELY tell me!?” Jake gasped. Amy’s jaw dropped. 

“Oh, calm down.” Gina waved her hand, but her eyes glittered with excitement. “It was only a matter of time.”

“The Captain saved a newspaper clipping about your wedding. We saw it on his office.” Charles added. 

“What!?” Amy squealed. “Oh my god!”

Just then, the Captain in question walked out of his office. “Why is no one working?” Jake waved. “Oh, Detective Santiago-Peralta. Sergeant Santiago-Peralta. You have returned from your honeymoon. It is good to see you. I trust Paris was pleasant?” He walked over to where the squad was gathered. 

Jake bit his lip to keep from laughing. Amy was nodding enthusiastic. “Paris was lovely, Captain.” she gushed.

“Exceptionally pleasant, you might say.” Jake quipped. 

“Oh good. I look forward to perusing the scrapbook when Sergeant Santiago-Peralta has completed it. I presume you will be bringing it in to the precinct for us to view?” He directed the question to Amy. 

She nodded so hard Jake was a little worried her head was going to fall off. 

“I trust the squad told you about the new evaluations?”

“Wait, what?” Jake’s head whipped around from where he was watching Amy nod with an amused smile on his face. 

“Evaluations?” Amy asked at the same time, smile slipping from her face. 

“Oh shit, yeah.” Rosa interjected. “Meant to tell you that first. Apparently there’s a new psych team for the precinct. Everyone’s required to do a full eval. We’re all already done.”

“But we’ve already had psych evals. I’ve had so many psych evals.” Jake’s whined with his eyes wide.

“I guess the new doctor wants to make sure she meets everyone in the precinct or whatever.” Rosa sounded bored as she explained. “So she required everyone get a new one.”

“But, I…” Jake groaned, his mood dropping. He hated psych evals.

“Everyone, Jake.” Terry pressed. “Even the Captain.”

Jake looked up at Holt, who nodded. 

“It was pretty painless, though.” Charles shrugged. “She was pretty nice.”

“I still maintain psychiatrists are all quacks.” Gina turned on her heel and went back to her desk. 

“That’s…” Amy started. 

“I wouldn’t.” Rosa shook her head. Amy nodded. “It’s really not a big deal. Took like an hour.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I’ll see you guys later, I’ve got to go call a B&E victim before the briefing to set up an interview.”

Jake nodded, feeling his chest tighten. Amy smiled at her friend.

“Well, Detective, Sergeant. You both have been signed up for time slots later this week. The new doctor is hoping to finish the entire precinct before the end of the month, so I suggest you check your emails.” Holt nodded to them both. “It is good to have you back. See you at the briefing.” He turned to walk back to his office. 

Charles clapped Jake on the shoulder. “So, buddy! When are you coming over to see Nickolaj? He misses you!” 

Jake shook his head slightly, as if to clear cobwebs. “Uh, yeah. Uh. I guess this weekend?” 

“Excellent!” Charles walked away smiling. 

Terry stood, staring at Amy and Jake, who both were looking as if someone had deflated. “Seriously, guys. It’s a routine psych eval. You’re not going to fail it or something. You can’t fail it.”

“Is it graded, though?” Amy asked, eyes wide. “Or is this some pass-fail bullshit?”

“What?” Terry frowned slightly. “No, no. It’s just so the psychiatrist has an idea of where everyone is at baseline. In case something happens later.”

“Oh.” Amy felt her shoulders loosen immediately. “Oh, okay. That’s fine then.”

Jake still felt inexplicably tense, but he smiled at Terry and squeezed Amy’s hand. “Piece of cake, right?” 

She smiled at him. “Exactly. I have to go brief the beat cops, though.”

Terry nodded and walked to the briefing room. 

“Love you, Ames.” Jake smiled at Amy, trying to calm the racing in his heart that he did not understand. He tugged at his badge again. 

“Love you, too, Jake. See you later?” She squeezed his free hand tight and then let go. 

“Of course. Good luck on your first day back!” 

“You, too.” 

Jake sat down at his desk and booted up his computer. He picked up the tiny cop car that sat on his desk and rolled it back and forth in front of the keyboard while he waited for the machine to turn on. He knew the captain was going to be assigning him a bunch of new cases at the briefing, and he probably had a hundred emails to read after being gone for two weeks, but he felt like his brain was buzzing. Finally, the computer loaded properly, and he pulled his email up on the screen. Impatiently, he tapped his foot under the desk. 

“Fucking slow internet…” he muttered under his breath. 

“What’s that, Jakey?” Charles chirped from next to him.

“Nothing.” Jake felt himself being short. 

The email loaded, finally, and he scoured the, frankly, intimidating list of unread emails for one about a psych eval. Finally, towards the bottom of the screen, he found it. He slapped his hand against his leg. Squeezing his eyes shut for a second, he opened it and skimmed the information until he found a date and time. He looked at his phone to check the date. 

“Oh fuck.” He muttered again. 

“You alright, Jake?” Charles asked, slightly more cautious this time. 

Jake blinked a few times. “Oh, yeah. Sorry man. I have that stupid psych eval tomorrow.”

“Ugh.” Charles groaned sympathetically. “Well, it’s really not that bad. This new doc is so much better than the old one.” He rolled his eyes. 

“Oh, well that’s good. I hated that lady.” Jake grimaced. 

“You ready for the briefing?” Charles asked, nodding towards the room where people were starting to gather. 

“Yep. Yep yep yep.” Jake nodded aggressively, standing up and shutting his monitor off. “Let’s go.” 

*****

For the next several hours, Jake’s upcoming meeting with the new psychiatrist kept distracting him. Holt assigned him a new case with Rosa, but he sat, tapping his foot, staring at his computer, until Rosa slapped her hand on his desk. 

“Hey! Peralta!” She snapped. 

He jerked his head up and stared at her for a second. Then he shook his head for what felt like the thousandth time that day. “Shit, my bad. What’s up, Rosa?”

“Wanna go deal with the property damage situation in Flatbrush? I finished interviewing the B&E victim, so I’m free for the next couple hours.” She folded her arms in front of her. 

“Yes!” Jake jumped up and grabbed his sunglasses. A case to take his mind off of the eval. Perfect. 

“Dope.” Rosa grabbed the keys to the squad car from her desk. 

For the next several hours, Jake and Rosa scoured the crime scene, taking statements and cataloguing evidence at a diner that had been vandalized. The windows had been smashed and someone had spray painted all over the glowing sign and the sidewalk out front. They watched the security footage, which, unfortunately didn’t tell them much, just that it was three people of indiscriminate gender and race, probably pretty young and fit from the way they were moving, and they clearly knew when the diner closed and when the owner and the rest of the staff left. Nothing had been stolen, no distinct messages, nothing to suggest gang involvement. All in all, Jake and Rosa were both a little puzzled. They had the security company send the tapes from the previous week to the office, and got ahold of the cameras from the street outside, and had that footage sent over as well. They got lunch on the way back to the precinct, mulling over the apparent lack of evidence. Just as the camera footage arrived at the office, Rosa’s B&E victim showed up. 

“Shit, I’m sorry man…” She grumbled as the middle aged woman with talons for fingernails screeched at Gina in a voice that made Jake want to puncture his ears. 

“No,  _ I’m _ sorry. You have to go deal with THAT.” He gestured to where Gina was snarling at the screeching, bleach blonde harpy. “I’ll watch the footage. Let you know if I find anything when you’re done dealing with Cruella DeVille.”

Rosa’s face screwed up and she scowled. “Yeah. Fuck.” 

She pushed herself away from the desk and walked to the woman, dragging her away from Gina. The two were about to be at each other's throats. Jake caught a glimpse of Captain Holt blinking at his doorway, a very slightly pained expression on his forehead, and laughed to himself. He poured himself a cup of coffee and pulled out his bag of shelled pistachios (Amy told him they were better for him than peanuts, and he had immediately bought a huge bag when they went to the grocery store). He pressed play on the footage and sipped his coffee. 

An hour later, when Rosa was finally done interviewing the blonde lady, and ready to slit the woman’s throat, she found Jake at the same table, viewing the tapes still. He had somehow managed to find a bag of popcorn, and was sitting with his feet propped up next to the screen playing the tapes. In one hand, he was rolling a rubber band ball around and around, and he mindlessly threw popcorn into his mouth with the other hand. He didn’t even flinch when she pulled a chair up to the desk and stuck her hand into the bag of popcorn. 

She coughed, loudly, next to his ear, and he jumped, popcorn flying everywhere and the rubber band ball bouncing off the wall across the room. 

“Jesus, Rosa!” He cleared his throat and settled back into his seat, pausing the video. “Don’t scare me like that, what the fuck.”

“I took popcorn out of the bag and you didn’t even flinch, Peralta.”

“You know, it’s..” Jake started with a smirk.

“Don’t. Fucking. Start.” Rosa glowered. “It’s Santiago-Peralta, now,” She mimicked in a sickeningly high pitched voice. “I fucking know. You got married. That doesn’t mean I have to spend a year saying your damn name.”

Jake just laughed. 

“See anything interesting?” She nodded to the paused screen. 

“Actually, yes.” Jake leaned forward, rewinding the tape at a sickening speed, explaining that he had seen three different individuals showing up just before the owner showed up and just after he left for the day several different times, and showing up during different times of the day. Never together, never at the same time twice, but the same three people over and over again. 

“Oh shit,” Rosa commented. “They were real particular.”

“Oh yeah.” Jake felt himself getting excited. “They were casing the hell out of this place.”

“So I guess we should pull the best pictures we can, and then interview the staff again to see if anyone recognizes them? Put ‘em through vicap?”

“Totally.” Jake nodded. “Also, though. Why? They didn’t take anything. They just busted the place up real bad.” 

“Who fucking knows. Probably revenge or some shit.” Rosa shrugged, pushing back and waiting for Jake to stand up. She grabbed the empty popcorn bag and retrieved the rubber band ball from the other side of the room. “Clean up your damn mess, Jake.”

He looked around, blinking as if he just realized what had happened. “Oh shit.” he picked up the empty popcorn bag, and tossed it and the empty coffee cups in the trash can by the door. He replaced the clip on the significantly more empty pistachio bag, put his phone safely in his pocket, and pushed the chairs in. “My bad.”

Rosa shook her head. 

The end of the day approached quickly enough, and Jake found himself in the parking garage, leaning against the trunk of Amy’s car and tapping his fingers against his leg. He scrolled aimlessly through his phone after texting her that he was waiting. She had responded that she would be down in just a minute, and he was trying very hard to resist the urge to reread the email about his eval in the morning for the hundredth time by playing Kwazy Kupcakes. He was terrible at it. 

Then he remembered that he hadn’t told Rosa he had to do the eval immediately after the briefing. They hadn’t scheduled any interviews that early, but he didn’t want her to think he was bailing or some dumb shit. He pulled up the message app on his phone. 

“Hey, forgot to mention. Have that dumb eval 2morrow after the briefing. Should be done by 11:30.” he texted her. Autocorrect had made Jake Santiago-Peralta a much better speller than any teacher ever before it.

“No worries. I have to meet with that B&E lady in the morning anyway.”

“The son did it.” Jake responded, rolling his eyes. 

“I’m actually pretty sure you’re right.” 

“I know.” Jake grinned, then he heard the sound of Amy’s uniform shoes clicking against the parking garage floor. “Gotta go. Amys here. See you in the am”

Rosa didn’t respond, so Jake put his phone in his pocket and greeted his wife with a kiss. 

“How was your day, Mr. Santiago-Peralta?”

“Surprisingly good, Mrs. Santiago-Peralta. And you?”

“Busy. So busy.” She leaned into the hug.

“How about we go home, order chinese food since we still haven’t gone grocery shopping, and I give you a foot rub?”

“Mmm.” Amy sighed, opening the car door and putting her briefcase in the backseat. “Marry me.”

“Already did, babe.” Jake smiled, sliding into the passenger seat and pulling out his phone to place an order at the Chinese food place. 

*****

The next morning, Jake was distracted throughout the entire briefing. He kept sliding his badge back and forth, and just hummed in agreement with Rosa when she updated the captain on the vandalism case they were working on. After the briefing, Charles clapped him on the back and he took the elevator down to the first floor, where the psychiatrist’s office was. At 10:02, he knocked, too loudly, on her door.

“Come in,” called a pleasant voice. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Jake said by way of greeting as he walked in the room. 

It was pleasant, much more pleasant than it had been under its previous occupant. It was filled with soft light, and a comfortable looking loveseat sat against one wall. The psychiatrist, an older woman with steel gray hair and horn rimmed glasses sat in a low chair across from the love seat. There was a spider plant in the windowsill - Amy had talked about getting one for their apartment - and a rectangular coffee table in front of the love seat had a bowl of small toys (Jake spotted a rubix cube, a sort of chain of plastic pieces, and several stress balls), a box of tissues, and one of those little zen gardens. There was an office behind the psychiatrist’s chair. 

“Mr. Peralta?” The psychiatrist questioned softly. “I’m Dr. Thompson.”

“Santiago-Peralta.” He corrected automatically before sitting on the dark brown sofa and grabbing the chain of plastic pieces and immediately starting to fiddle with it.

“Oh that’s right. You just got married, didn’t you?” She had a friendly smile. 

Jake grinned, bright and glittering. “That’s right!”

“Your wife, she’s also a cop, right?”

“Yeah, she’s a sergeant. In charge of the beat cops in this precinct.”

“That’s rather impressive.”

“She’s pretty great. Super smart, crazy organized. I’m really lucky.” Jake glowed, thinking about how much he loved being married to Amy.

“I’m sure she feels the same way.” the doctor nodded.

“That I’m organized?” Jake scoffed. “Not hardly. I’m a freaking mess. But I’m trying, cuz I don’t want to drive her crazy. We got a shoe rack for my sneakers.” 

“Are you normally disorganized?”

“I mean, I have a system. I can usually find stuff. But yeah, people say I’m pretty messy.” Jake shrugged. “And Amy says I’m just as smart as her. Told me she loves the way my mind works.”

“How is that?” Dr. Thompson’s voice was so soothing and Jake felt himself relaxing into the smooth fabric of the sofa he was sitting on, while he fidgeted with the spinning toy in his hands. 

“Oh, well. Gina says it’s ‘out of the box’ whatever that means. I think better on my feet. You know?” He looked at the stern faced woman with a kind smile. 

“Sure.”

The conversation continued for about 50 minutes, Dr. Thompson writing things down occasionally, and Jake fidgeting with the plastic pieces of the toy he’d picked up, shifting his feet, and playing with his badge around his neck. He felt remarkably at ease and just rambled for the better part of the hour, with Dr. Thompson interjecting only occasionally. At one point, he’d been distracted by the Milk Restaurant Case with Terry and started telling her about it. 

“Jake.” She had gently interrupted. 

“Oh, right. Thought journey. My bad.”

“Thought journey?” She had questioned. 

He had chuckled to himself. “That’s what Terry calls it when I go on a tangent. I get distracted by stuff. He’ll say ‘This is a delightful Thought Journey, Jake, but if we could get back to the case?’ I really like it. Thought Journey.”

She had just nodded and gestured for him to continue. 

When the hour was almost up, she sat up slightly in her seat and put the clipboard down on a narrow table next to her. 

“Oh, is it time to go?” Jake looked around for a clock, but couldn’t see one. He felt like maybe it was rude to pull his phone out. 

“Just about.” Dr. Thompson spoke carefully. “Detective, why isn’t there anything in your file about your ADHD?”

“My…” Jake froze, dropping the plastic toy on the floor by his feet. “You what now?”

“You…” Dr. Thompson blinked, and then appeared to realize what was happening. “Jake, have you ever had any testing of any kind? In school or anything?”

“Uh, aside from these evals and stuff in the academy, no?” His raised eyebrow was disappearing into the curls falling over his forehead - he really needed to go get a haircut, he thought, and then forced himself back to the present. “I mean, my mom made me go to a therapist for a bit after my dad left, but. That was stupid.” He looked up at the psychiatrist sitting across from him. “Uh. Sorry.”

She raised her hands slightly. “No apology necessary. I’d like to make a recommendation.” She moved to her desk and pulled a sheet of paper out of a drawer. 

“Oh?” Jake felt his heart trying to claw its way out of his chest. 

She handed him the paper. He couldn’t process any of the words. “This is a list of outside psychiatrists. I’d really recommend you get tested for ADHD.”

“Tested…?” Jake felt weak around the knees. 

“It’s nothing difficult or painful, no!” the doctor spoke quickly. “It would just be a chat like this. I could, in theory, diagnose you myself, but it’s not really my place as the precinct’s psychiatrist. But this list includes only doctors that I know personally, and that I know will take the departmentally offered health insurance. They’re all lovely people.”

“But, uh…” he was gripping his badge so hard that he was sure it was cutting into his hand, and his other hand was crumpling the edge of the list she had handed him. 

“It won’t really effect you in any way, Detective, other than maybe giving you some more insight and tools to help with day to day.” 

“Oh. Uh.” He wasn’t sure what to say. 

She was writing something on a pad of paper. “Take your time, though. No rush. And again, this is just a strong recommendation. Not a requirement. Think it over. If you have any questions, my number is on the bottom of this page.” 

She handed him another piece of paper. He let go of his badge to grab it. The letters ADHD jumped off the page and he saw a phone number scrawled across the bottom. He stood, numb. 

“Are you alright, Detective?”

“Uh, yeah. Yep. Yep yep yep. Cool cool cool. I’m good. I’ve actually gotta go, we’ve got a case we’re working on, so…” 

She nodded, eyes worried. Jake bolted for the door and raced up the stairs, breathing heavily. He finally made it to the third floor and managed to get to the evidence room without running into anyone and pulled the door closed behind him. He collapsed on the floor behind a stack of boxes. The papers in his hand fluttered to the ground at his feet and he tried to breathe deeply like Amy had showed him. 

Amy. She would know what to do. Jake pulled out his phone and called her desk phone. She answered on the second ring. 

“Sergeant Santiago-Peralta, 99th precinct, may I help you?” Her business voice was clipped and pleasant. Jake felt his heartbeat steady slightly, hearing it. “Hello?”

“Ames.” Jake managed to whisper out.

“Jake?” She was immediately alarmed. “Where are you?”

“Evidence room.” He felt like he was choking. “Third floor.” 

“Sit tight. I will be there in less than two minutes. I love you, Jake.”

“I love you, too.” His voice was shaking. He just kept hearing the doctor’s voice in his head, repeating those four letters over and over and over again. 

The phone clicked off and Jake clutched his cell phone in his hands. He wanted to shout, to run headlong into the shelf in front of him, but he felt frozen. He knew he needed to go find Rosa so they could interview the diner staff, but he couldn’t make himself move. After a minute, the door creaked slowly open. 

“Jake?” Amy’s voice called out, quiet and gentle. 

“Back here.” He croaked. 

She rushed back, crouched down in front of him, and grabbed his hands. She took his phone and placed in on the floor next to them. She put one of her hands on his chest, and one of his hands on her chest, and slowed her breathing. After a few breaths, she felt his heart rate slow, felt his breath start to regulate to mimic hers. 

“That’s it, babe. You’re safe, it’s okay.” She soothed, holding his other hand in hers, running her thumb along the back of his palm. 

He took a few shuddering, slow, deep breaths, and then looked up at her. And then back down at the papers scattered on the evidence room floor. She sat back and collected them, letting go of his hand briefly. 

“What’s going on?” She questioned softly. “Was it something in the eval?” Amy’s was later that afternoon, and she felt her own anxiety about it pick back up. 

“The doctor…” Jake started and then stopped, and then started again. “The doctor wants me to go get tested. She thinks I have ADHD.”

“She…” Amy looked down at the papers in her hand. A list of local psychiatrists and a piece of letterhead that just said “Testing for ADHD - Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder” and then the doctor’s name and phone number. 

“I’m…” Jake felt his eyes start to swim. “Am I broken?”

Amy felt her heart squeeze in her chest and she immediately dropped the papers to her lap and taking Jake’s face in her hands. “Oh my god, babe, no. No, no, no.”

“No?” His voice was so small. 

“God no.” She was firm and sure, and he clung to her forearms, leaning his forehead into hers. “If you do...if you do have ADHD, it doesn’t mean you’re broken. Tons of people have ADHD. You are brilliant and funny and kind and caring and wonderful and an amazing detective, and maybe have ADHD. It doesn’t mean anything at all.”

“You’re sure?” He peered at her through dark lashes.

“I’m sure I’m sure.” She thought for a minute. “I’m pretty sure my younger brother Carlos has ADHD, actually. And he’s totally fine. A total pain in my ass, but totally fine.” She added with a smile. 

“Do you think I should…” Jake trailed off, eyes glued to the list in Amy’s lap. 

“Do you want to go get tested?” She asked, leaning back a little. 

“I think maybe I should? Will you go with me?”

“Of course, Jake. We’ll schedule something this afternoon, okay?” 

“Okay.” He gulped, shifting slightly. “Thanks, Ames.”

She leaned forward, giving him a light kiss. “Any time, my love.” she smiled softly at him.

He leaned back, knocking his head against the boxes behind him. “Alright. Cool cool cool cool cool. I gotta go finish this case with Rosa now.” He started to stand up, offering his hand to Amy. 

She took it, gratefully, and brushed off her uniform pants. “Be safe, yeah?”

“Always.”

“Do I have…” she turned around and gestured to the seat of her pants.

“The best butt in the world?” Jake grinned. “Yes, absolutely.”

Amy swatted at his arm, entirely without venom. “Ugh, Jake. No. Do I have anything on my pants!?”

“Oh, no. Nah, you’re good.” Jake smiled broadly, rocking on his toes.

“You knew what I meant.”

He just winked and leaned in to kiss her. She left the evidence room with a shake of her head and a fond smile, and made her way back downstairs. Jake shook himself, collected the papers and folded them in half. When he got to his desk, he put them carefully in the front pocket of his computer bag and then texted Amy to tell him where he put them in case he forgot. She reminded him to eat lunch, so he pulled his leftover Chinese food out of the precinct’s fridge and sat, with his feet propped up on the table, eating it out of the container, cold. Charles grimaced at him and started going on about his weird salad. Jake just rolled his eyes and let Charles talk about his goat cheese, macadamia nut, and dried apricot salad without really listening. 

When he finished eating, Rosa showed up, finishing a soda, and they left to interview the diner staff. At 3:00, he texted Amy to wish her good luck at her eval. She sent back a smiley face and a heart, and he went back to working on the case. By 3:30, they had narrowed the suspects down to the owner’s estranged daughter, her boyfriend, and his roommate, by 4:00 they were chasing them down the alley behind their Crown Heights apartment, and by 4:45 they had signed confessions in the file on Holt’s desk and Jake had a scratch on the back of his left hand from the daughter’s long fingernails. Rosa had insisted he clean it out, because “God only knows what that fucking crazy person had under those freaky ass nails,” and he was pretty sure it was going to scar, but all in all, good day. 

“Hey, you were right,” Jake told Rosa on the way to the elevator at 5:00. 

She raised her eyebrow and adjusted her grip on her motorcycle helmet. 

“You said it was probably revenge. You were right. Revenge for being cut off.” Jake elbowed the tall woman next to him. 

“Oldest reason in the book. So dumb.” She rolled her eyes. 

“Truth.” He nodded. “A perp once told me he murdered a guy for love.”

“Classic.” Rosa agreed. 

“I told him it was a cool motive, but it was still murder.” 

She chuckled slightly. “I remember that. He chopped his own finger off, right?”

Jake nodded. “Freaky guy.”

When they got to the garage, she nodded gruffly to him, mounted her bike, pulled her helmet on, and sped off. Jake turned the corner to where Amy had parked the car that morning, and found her waiting for him, lounging against the car much the same way he had been the day before, only much calmer. 

“Hello there, my darling wife.” he sing-songed at her, pulling his bag off his shoulder and kissing her cheek. “How was your eval?”

“Fine. She seems nice.”

“No surprise diagnosis...a….ses….” Jake frowned when he realized he didn’t know the plural of diagnosis.

“Diagnoses. And no, but she did tell me I should try to relax.” Amy smiled at her husband when she opened the door. 

“Oh, Ames.” He groaned. “I’ve been saying that for YEARS!”

“Get in line, Santiago-Peralta.”

“No line cutting because I’m your husband?” he whined as he slid into the passenger's seat. 

“Oh, you can definitely cut the line.” She laughed as she started the car and pulled out of the spot. 

“Oh thank god. I hate waiting in line.” He flopped back. 

“I know.” She patted his leg. 

*****

That night, Jake and Amy sat curled up on the sofa, eating Polish food they’d picked up from the restaurant down the block that had their order memorized, and searching for psychiatrists on Amy’s laptop. Reruns of Justice League cartoons played in the background with no sound. 

“Ugh!” Amy groaned, throwing her fork down on her plate on the coffee table. “Half the people on this list aren’t even accepting new patients. What kind of shit is this?”

“Well, at least they’re easy to eliminate from the list, right?” Jake closed the container of potato pancakes and leaned forward to put it on the table. 

He picked up Amy’s sock-clad feet, stood up, and placed them back on the couch. He gathered their dishes and the leftover food, and walked to the kitchen. He was putting the leftovers away when he started making a mental list of groceries they needed to buy. He started walking around the kitchen looking for a pen. Someone - probably him - had moved the one they usually kept by the pad of paper next to the fridge for writing the list, and he needed to write it down or he’d forget. 

“Whatcha looking for?” Amy called. 

“A pen for the grocery list.” 

“Grocery list?” She sounded confused. 

“We really need to go shopping.”

“Right now?”

“Well, no…” Jake paused in his search for the pen. “Oh. Right. Okay.” He went back to putting the leftovers back in the fridge, and then started washing dishes. 

“We can make a list and go grocery shopping tomorrow night. I promise.” Amy called. 

“Cool cool cool.” Jake nodded, not really sure what he was agreeing to.

Finally, all the dishes were in the drying rack, and Jake was bringing Amy a full glass of water. 

“So, how’s that list coming?” He asked, as he picked her feet back up, sat down, and put her feet back on his lap. 

“Well, it wasn’t a very long list. Only 15 names, and after I eliminated everyone not taking new clients, I was left with only 7 names. You said you didn’t want a man - “

“Yeah. What if he’s like my dad? God, could you imagine?” Jake shuddered. 

Amy nodded vehemently. “So we’re left with only 3 for you to narrow it down. I feel like maybe there should be more female psychiatrists.”

“You will get no argument there from me, babe.” Jake nodded. “So, how do you narrow this down?”

Amy shrugged. “To be honest, I don’t know. I really don’t.”

“Should I just go by who has the earliest available appointment?”

“Well, there’s no way to know that at…” she looked at her wrist “...7:30 pm. So, I guess just pick on, request an appointment, and hope for the best?”

“Well. Alright then.” He made grabby hands for the laptop and she handed it to him. 

After a few minute’s deliberation, during which Jake immediately eliminated one doctor because she looked weirdly like his Aunt Kathy (who had the worst voice ever and an apartment full of cats on Long Island), pondered whether they should maybe get a cat for a moment, and then switched back and forth between the remaining two open tabs, he finally settled on the a Dr. Greenleaf, who looked like a strange combination of his Nana and Dr. Thompson. She had a convenient system on her website to request an appointment, so Jake filled out the required information (with very little help from Amy, thank you very much!) and pressed “submit” with gritted teeth. 

“And now…” He forced a smile. “We wait.”

“We wait.” Amy agreed. “And I’ll be with you, no matter what.”

*****

The next afternoon, on his way back from doing door duty for a string of B&Es in Bushwick, Jake’s phone rang loudly from his pocket. It was an unknown number, and they were hoping to hear back from a landlord at one of the apartment buildings, so Jake answered it, gesturing to Charles to keep driving. 

“Detective Santiago-Peralta,” He answered quickly. 

“Yes, this is Dr. Greenleaf, I received a notice from my online system that a Jacob Santiago-Peralta was looking for an evaluation?”

“Oh,” Jake’s eyes widened and he looked quickly at Charles. “Yes, that’s me. Yeah, uh. Dr. Thompson referred me?”

“Oh certainly,” Dr. Greenleaf responded. “From the NYPD, correct?”

“Yeah. Yes. Yes ma’am.” Jake felt flustered. 

“Will you be using your insurance, then?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Okay, if you could just give me that information whenever you’re ready.”

Jake fumbled through for his wallet for a minute, and then pulled the insurance card out. Amy had slid it right behind his license, and he was eternally grateful for that. He read the information to the doctor on the phone, trying to ignore the confused look he felt Charles giving him. 

“Wonderful, Mr. Santiago-Peralta,” Dr. Greenleaf started. 

“Oh, Jake, please.” Jake interrupted. 

“Okay then, Jake. When works best for you? I have appointments this coming Monday, late afternoon, or I can do Wednesday or Thursday morning of next week.” 

Jake screwed his eyes shut and tried picture his calendar for the next week. He had no idea what he was supposed to be doing the next day, let alone all the way into next week. “Uh, I guess Monday afternoon. What time is that appointment?”

“4:30.”

“Where is your office?”

“Right by Prospect Park.”

He’d only have to leave work like an hour early. “Yeah, that works perfectly.” He searched for a pen and a piece of paper when he realized that Charles was holding one in his hand and they were parked out front of the precinct. He hadn’t realized they stopped moving. “4:30 this coming Monday?” Charles was writing it down in his notebook. He ripped the page out and handed it to Jake.

“Yes sir.” Dr. Greenleaf’s voice smiled through the phone. 

“I’ll see you then, I guess.”

“Please bring your ID and proof of insurance with you, if you could.”

Jake made grabby hands to the pen Charles was about to put away, and the older man handed it to him. He scribbled ID and INSURANCE across the bottom of the page Charles had given him. 

“Will do. Thanks so much.”

“Have a good afternoon, Jake.”

“You, too.” He hung up the phone and sat back. Before he could forget it, he texted Amy about the appointment and then put it into the calendar app on his phone. 

“Everything okay, Jakey?” Charles was wide-eyed, his face void of judgement. “That sounded serious.”

“Oh, yeah. Just have to go to this dumb doctor’s appointment. Should be no big deal.” He tried to keep his voice calm, remembering to breathe through his nose like Amy had shown him. She texted back that she would tell the captain they needed to leave a little early that day. He responded that he would do it, it was his appointment anyway. 

“You want me to go with? I’m great at a doctor’s office!” Charles exclaimed, turning the cruiser off. 

“Oh, it’s cool.” Jake smiled, clapping Charles on the shoulder. “I really appreciate it, man. But Amy’s gonna go with. You know how organized she is, she knows all the right questions to ask and crap like that.”

Charles nodded knowingly. “You are too right, Jake. Too right.”

“Now I just gotta go tell Holt that door duty was a bust and that need to leave an hour early on Monday.” He pushed himself up and out of the car, slamming the door behind him. “All in a day’s work!” He shouted at the sky. 

“That’s the spirit!” 

The captain was not particularly pleased that so little progress was being made on the B&E and let them know to ask if they needed more resources, but was surprisingly alright with Jake’s request for he and Amy to leave work an hour early so he could go to the doctor. 

“I am glad to see you are finally taking your health seriously, Detective.” Holt said, stern and stone-faced as ever. 

“Right. Well, I’ll try not to make it a regular thing, I guess?” Jake furrowed his brow and walked out a little confused. 

*****

The waiting is what killed Jake. He was never good at waiting. As a kid, he drove his mom and Nana insane, always asking how much time had passed, how much time they had left. He could never sit still for long, always bouncing out of his chair, causing a ruckus, more than often making a mess or knocking something over or hurting himself. By Friday night, he was bouncing around like the little metal ball in a pinball machine and Amy was ready to tie him to a chair - and not in a fun way. 

On Saturday, she found an arcade that still took quarters and had dozens of old school arcade games - another dumb hipster trend Jake could get behind. She gave him a bag of quarters, put headphones in, pulled a book out of her bag, sat down on a bench outside, and told him to “Come get her when he ran out of quarters or got hungry - whichever came first.” He kissed her, hard, on the side of her head, and ran inside, sneakers skittering on the linoleum floor. For several hours, he sat in front of different games, entranced in the games he was playing, practically hypnotized by the beeping and the flashing lights. It was mid-afternoon before he finished the bag of quarters Amy had given him, and, with a smile to the handsome 20-something hipster at the counter, he shoved his hands in his pockets and went to find his wife. She was still where he left her, wearing far too many layers for the fairly mild day, halfway done with the book she was reading - he was pretty sure it was not the book she was reading when he left, so she must’ve finished that one. 

“How’s the book, babe?” He asked, sliding onto the bench next to her. 

She looked up, and smiled when she saw him. She put a bookmark in her page and closed it. “Really good, actually. The librarian recommended it.” 

“Did you finish the first one?”

“Yeah, I brought a few. Wasn’t sure how long you’d be.”

“Ah. Well, I’m out of quarters. Lunch?” He looked at his phone. “Late lunch? Early dinner?”

“Wanna cook something?” 

“Ooooo. Chopped style! Text the squad, ask for a random ingredients. Let’s go to the store!” 

And so they managed to get through Saturday. 

Sunday, Jake made a huge batch of sugar cookies while dancing to Taylor Swift in the kitchen, went for run (which he did sometimes for stress relief, and swore Amy to secrecy about when they first started living together - he even had a specific playlist for it), took too long of a shower, and rewatched the first two Die Hard Movies. Amy cleaned the apartment and finished her book. 

Finally, after driving Terry up a wall all morning, chasing a robber through Greenwood Cemetery with Rosa, and having a minor panic attack in the supply room on the 4th floor, 4:00 on Monday rolled around. He shouted to Gina that he was leaving and to not let anyone call him, grabbed his jacket, and raced down to the parking garage. He was too energetic to take the elevator and practically sprinted down the stairs. He nearly ran directly into Amy as he reached the doorway to the garage. 

“Oh, shit!” He gasped out. “My bad, babe!” 

She just laughed, and put her hands on his chest to stop him from lurching forward. “Come on, then.” She dangled the keys. 

The drive was shockingly quick, and Amy lead Jake up the stairs to a small, warm office. He felt his stomach knotting. A receptionist handed him a clipboard with a small stack of papers and a pen and took his ID and his insurance card from his shaking hand. Amy offered to write when she saw Jake gripping the pen so hard his knuckles were turning white and she was worried the pen was about to break. He gratefully relinquished the clipboard to her, whispering even though the waiting room was empty, dictating the answers to her, even though she knew most of them, just for something to do. He had left his police badge in the car and was sliding the zipper on his leather jacket up and down in its place. He was passively sort of glad there was no one in the waiting room to give him dirty looks at the sound his zipper was making. When the paperwork was done, he went to hand the receptionist the clipboard back, and she returned his ID and insurance card. He put them back in his wallet and returned to his seat. Amy handed him a list of questions they had talked about the night before, since they had decided it would be best if Jake went in alone, but he was sure he would forget to ask certain questions. She had written down all of the questions they could think of in her careful handwriting, and kept the list in her bag all day so it wouldn’t get lost. After a few minutes, a tired looking woman with a sullen-looking teenager walked through the waiting room in silence. Jake followed them with his eyes. 

Then, a warm voice called from near the receptionist’s desk, “Jacob Santiago-Peralta?”

He jerked forward, almost fell, felt Amy’s steadying hand on his shoulder, righted himself, and stood up. Amy squeezed his hand gently, and then pulled a book out of her bag. He smiled at her and followed the woman - Dr. Greenleaf, he was pretty sure - to the office. 

Nearly an hour and a half later of Jake rambling, Dr. Greenleaf asking him a series questions, and Jake rambling some more, Dr. Greenleaf sat back. Jake leaned forward, rolling the rubber ball he had found in a bowl on her table back and forth in his hands. 

“So, Jake.” Her voice was even, warm, and smooth. “Do you have any questions for me?”

Questions! Jake had questions. Amy made him a list! He patted his pockets, finding it in the inner pocket of his leather jacket. “Uh…” He stared at the rather comprehensive list and froze. “Do I have ADHD?”

Dr. Greenleaf chuckled softly. “It is my clinical opinion that yes, you do have ADHD. I’m actually shocked you’ve not been diagnosed before this.”

He sat perfectly still for a moment, a little bit numb. “I...So. The. It’s...I’m not broken?” He choked out finally. 

“Absolutely not. In fact, you’re pretty typical of a person who has ADHD.”

“T-typical?”

“The symptoms you describe - the impulsivity, the spending, the jitters, the hyperfocusing, forgetting things, the thought journeys you describe?” She smiled at the phrase thought journey. Jake would have to tell Amy to remind him to thank the Sarge for that one. “They’re all very normal for ADHD.”

“So...what do I do?” He gripped the armrests of the chair he was sitting in. 

“Well, there is medicine you can take if you want -” she started, and Jake felt the blood leave his face, “- but I wouldn’t recommend taking it every day. Maybe just on days where you have to really be focused: when you have to go to court or something like that. I have a few tips and tricks I find work really well for clients with ADHD, and would like to see you regularly for a few months, just to help you with any adjustments, to help manage the symptoms in a way that works well with you.”

Jake nodded. He looked back at the paper in front of him. “Do you have a pen?”

Dr. Greenleaf handed him a pen from his desk, and a pad of paper. He wrote quickly: medicine, more meetings with doc. 

“Will this affect my job?” he asked, trying not to worry. It was one of the questions on his list. 

“Does it currently?”

“What?”

“You’ve been a cop for how long? A decade? And you’ve had ADHD the entire time.”

“Oh. Yeah.” He nodded. 

“There are certainly things we can talk about that may make parts of your job easier, things you talked about that bother you, but a diagnosis of ADHD will not have any kind of negative affect on your job.”

“Should I tell the squad?”

“That’s entirely up to you. They may be able to help you, if you choose to do so. And, they are your friends.”

He already knew he wanted to. 

“Do you have, like. A list? Or something? Somewhere I can see like, tips? Stuff I can do regularly? To help?”

The doctor smiled at him, warm and welcoming. She rifled through a stack of papers on the table next to her and handed him a list. “You came prepared, I see.” She nodded to the list he was looking at. 

Jake breathed a laugh through his nose. “Oh, this is a hundred percent my wife. She’s super organized. I’m a mess without her.” 

“It’s good to have a strong support system. Do you often make lists together?”

“Yeah, Amy got me started on that.” Jake shrugged. “At first just groceries, cuz I’d forget what we needed and then just buy cheez doodles and Pop Tarts. But now I make them whenever I need to remember something. Sometimes I forget the lists, though. Or I can’t find a pen. Charles keeps tons of pens, though. And I write a lot of stuff on my arms. And I put it in my phone calendar. Which is good unless my phone dies. But I’m working on that.” 

“Well, you’ve got the number one recommendation on this list down pat. A good support system. And you’re working on number two: finding an organizational system that works for you.” 

Jake looked at the list she had handed him. Exercise, diet. It looked pretty simple, honestly. “This stuff will help?” 

“Absolutely.”

“What about when I’m in meetings and stuff and can’t focus? It drives Holt and the Sarge crazy, but I just can’t ever sit still.”

“Have you ever heard of a stim toy?”

“A what now?”

“You’re holding one right now,” Dr. Greenleaf pointed at the rubber ball in Jake’s free hand. “It’s just a toy used for stimming. Stimming is a repetitive response to being over- or under-stimulated, and is very common in people with ADHD, or anxiety disorders, or Autism. There are different kinds of stimming, verbal and motor. Do you ever repeat words or phrases when you’re uncomfortable?”

“Cool cool cool cool cool.” Jake mumbled under his breath. 

“Hmm?”

“I say ‘cool’ a lot. And Rosa told me I was going to give myself a burn from messing with the chain on my police badge.”

Dr. Greenleaf nodded. “So, there are alternatives to potential injury by police badge; fidget toys are usually cheap and easy to find online or at any toy store.”

Jake’s eyes widened. “You mean like a fidget spinner!?”

The doctor laughed. “Yes, exactly like that. That is, I believe, the intended purpose of fidget spinners.”

“Holt’s gonna lose it.” he was positively gleeful. 

She smiled. “Anything I can answer for you this evening, Jake?”

He looked over his list. And then added FIDGET SPINNER to the list he was writing on the pad she’d handed him. “Uh, no. I think that’s everything.” 

“Alright, then. If you could just make an appointment with the receptionist before you leave. Let’s say two weeks from now?”

Jake nodded. “Thanks, Doc.” He stuck his hand out to shake hers. 

She smiled again, that warm, welcoming smile, and shook his hand. “It was a pleasure to meet you.” 

“Same.” 

She walked him to the door, he made another appointment, and he and Amy walked to the elevator. While they walked to the elevator, he fiddled with the papers in his hands, trying find the words he wanted to use. The doors dinged open and it was, mercifully, empty. They stepped on and the doors slid shut. 

“I have ADHD” Jake said, too loudly for the small space, staring at the vaguely reflective surface of the elevator doors. 

Amy reached out, grabbing his arm in her hand. She turned him to face her, but he stared at the floor. “I’m so proud of you, Jake.” 

His head whipped up. “Proud of…” He stopped. “Why?”

“Because it took a lot to go in there, to hear that, and to say it out loud. I’m proud of you.” She cupped his face in her cold hands, and kissed him gently on the mouth. 

The elevator door dinged open, and they walked out to the garage where they had parked their car. Jake traded Amy for the information sheets and list Dr. Greenleaf had given him and took the keys from her hand. On the ride home, they talked about what he had learned, and different things they could try, to see if they would help. 

“She said I should get a fidget spinner!” Jake cried with glee as he pulled into their assigned parking space at the apartment building. 

“I’m not sure that’s…” Amy started. 

“A fidget spinner, Ames!” He threw the door open, and caught it at the last minute before it hit the SUV parked next to them. 

“Alright then.” Amy sighed, smiling a little. “A fidget spinner it is.” 

*****

The next morning, Jake asked the squad to stay back for a second after the briefing. The beat cops left, the room emptied a little, and Amy nodded to Jake encouragingly from the front row. 

“So.” Jake started, taking a deep breath.

“What’s wrong, Jake!? Are you dying!?” Charles went white. 

Jake frowned, confused. “What? No, Charles, I’m not dying. What the heck, man?”

“I just know you went to the doctor yesterday, and I’ve been so nervous.”

“Oh for the love of…” Jake threw his head back and stared at the ceiling for a second. “I went to the doctor yesterday because the new psychiatrist, Dr. Thompson, told me I needed to have some testing done. A different kind of psychiatric evaluation.” He sighed, and looked around the room at his friends. His family. “I’m fine. I’m healthy as ever.” Holt raised his eyebrow slightly and Terry looked nearly ready to argue that fact, but Jake went on. “It turns out I have ADHD.”

The room was quiet for a minute. 

Then Gina spoke up, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, and? I been knew that.” She shook her head. “I knew all psychiatrics were quacks.”

Jake frowned and quirked an eyebrow, but nodded. “Alright, Goose. Not exactly what I was going for, but thanks for the support.”

She nodded at him. “I gotchu boo.” She stood up and hugged him, and then walked out to her desk and propped her feet up. No one could see her computer screen, but if they had tried to look, they probably would’ve seen a tab open that read “How to help your friend with ADHD” if they could read fast enough before Gina closed the tab and pepper sprayed them in the face.

Charles looked weirdly excited. “I’ve been reading about diets to help with focus and concentration, for Nikolaj, so I can…”

Jake interrupted. “Does it involve genitalia or internal organs of any kind?”

The older man shook his head seriously. “No, Jake. No. Plenty of Omega 3 fatty acids, slow release energy…”

“Alright. We’ll talk. The doctor did say diet could help.”

“I’ll go plan a menu!” Charles speed walked out the door to his desk, where he accidentally knocked over an entire stack of case files.

Jake flinched as he watched Charles’ smack his forehead against the desk when he bent down to pick up the files and then turned to the remaining people in the room. “Plus, she said I get to have a fidget spinner!” He smiled gleefully, eyes alight. 

Rosa raised her eyebrow and asked, voice dry and monotone, “Did she actually say those words specifically, Jake?”

He opened his mouth and then closed it and then opened again. “No, she said I should get a stim toy. I asked if she meant like a fidget spinner, and she said yes.” Rosa was just standing, arms crossed, raising her eyebrow, so Jake looked at the Captain. “You said you’d get me a fidget spinner once! I remember!”

The man put his face in his hand for just a minute and then quickly recovered. “I did say that, Detective.” He honestly had had his suspicions about Jake having ADHD, and was honestly a little shocked he had gone to see a doctor about it. “Thank you for keeping us abreast of your situation. I imagine many of us will find this useful. If I can be of assistance in any way, please let me know.” He stood, wondering to himself if Kevin would know where one would purchase a fidget spinner. He could go at lunch. “If you will excuse me, however, I do have to make a phone call.” He nodded to the squad, and then to Jake, offering his hand to shake it. As usual, Jake ignored it in favor of hugging the captain.

Just as the captain reached the door of his office, Jake called out. “You could buy me fidget spinner!” 

Rosa shook her head. “We gotta go to Bushwick to interview that landlord about the murder in 15 minutes, Jake.” Then she stepped close to him, squeezed his upper arm, and said, quiet and stern. “Thanks for telling us, Jake. You’re gonna be just fine.” 

He smiled to himself, and then rubbed his arm a bit when she let go. Her grip was scary strong. Amy’s radio crackled with a message, to which she responded, and then gave Jake’s hand a gentle squeeze and kissed his cheek. 

“I’m proud of you, Jake.” She whispered into his ear. He felt himself blush. 

Scully and Hitchcock were looking a little confused in the back of the room. Terry sat, silent and thoughtful, in the front row, staring at the wall behind Jake. 

“You guys know you don’t have to just sit here?”

“Are you gonna start taking adderall?” Hitchcock asked. “That stuff is basically speed.”

“Okay, alright. Yep. Go do some paperwork, guys. Please.” Jake frowned and pinched the bridge of his nose. Then he pulled up a chair, swung it around, put it directly in front of Terry’s line of vision, and sat down. Hard. 

“You alright there, Sarge? You’re awfully quiet.” Jake felt the beginnings of self-doubt creep into his mind, the need to defend himself, to prove he wasn’t broken crawling into his gut. 

“I’m so sorry, Jake.” Terry’s voice was quiet, hands clasped in front of him on the table, and he looked Jake directly in the eyes. 

Jake leaned back a little, as if recoiling. “Wait, what?”

Terry wiped his hand down his face. “I’ve known you for how long?”

“Uh…” Jake tried to count the years in his head. “Like...10 years?”

“And I never once even thought to ask.” Terry looked embarrassed. “I kept giving you all this flack for not growing up, for being too hyper all the time. I never even thought to ask why, or to ask if there was a way that worked better for you. And I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” Jake was taken aback. “Oh. Terry, no.” He shook his head, and then grabbed the sergeant’s giant hand in his. “This is not on you, man. I mean, if you had told me five years ago that I would’ve voluntarily gone to the doctor to get tested for this, I would’ve laughed at you and then probably eaten my weight in gummy bears.”

Terry shook his head, laughing a little. “That’s disgusting.”

“Probably, yeah.” Jake nodded. “But for real. You’ve been amazing. A great leader, a great sergeant, a great friend. In fact, you’ve been so much more helpful than I think either of us realized. I told the doctor that you called my tangents thought journeys. She really liked that. Said it was a really positive way to reframe it. So, you’re awesome. This is not on you.” 

He smiled, brightly. “Thank you for saying that, Jake.”

“It’s the truth.” Jake picked his hands up and slapped the table in front of him lightly. “By the way, the doctor said regular exercise can help.”

Terry’s eyes widened in excitement. 

“You’ve GOT to take it easy on me, man. I’m never gonna be as strong as you.” Jake reached out and squeezed Terry’s impossibly large bicep. “I’m not sure I’d want to be, to be honest…” 

“Alright, Peralta. Get out of here.” Terry shook him off with a laugh. “Let me know when you want to go to the gym.” 

“Apparently,” Jake said, standing up, “Yoga and meditation helps, too. But I’m kinda scared to tell Charles that.” 

Terry laughed out loud. 

*****

After lunch, Jake walked back to his desk. Charles had emailed him a list of foods that were supposedly good for concentration, and Jake wanted to print it out so he could look for recipes and go to the grocery store. Sitting in front of his keyboard was a brand new shining blue plastic fidget spinner. Jake looked up, and the Captain and Kevin were sitting in the Captain’s office. Captain Holt looked up over Kevin’s shoulder and nodded briefly at Jake when he lifted the spinner up into Holt’s view line. Jake nodded back, smiling, and spun it rapidly between his fingers and immediately dropped it on the desk. It skittered off into his lap. Across the room Rosa shook her head slightly and started googling less...potentially hazardous stim toys. Terry ordered a book called  _ The Smart but Scattered Guide to Success _ and another one called  _ Thinking Differently _ , laughing to himself at the idea of reading a parenting book for one of his work kids. Amy had finally settled on ordering a book about organization for people with ADHD after scouring online articles and reading reviews in every free second she had. Jake find a white noise app on his phone and put on his noise cancelling headphones, and managed to get his paperwork done in record time. 

*****

Two days later, Jake was trying to show Rosa a trick with his fidget spinner. He really wasn’t good at it, and he was also rambling about this episode of Justice League he had watched the night before and thinking about the new recipe he was going to try to cook that night. After a second, the spinner flew out of his hand and hit Rosa gently in the cheek. The tall, dark haired woman blinked slowly while the blue plastic toy clattered onto the floor in front of her. Jake’s eyes widened and he was readying himself to bolt. 

Very slowly, Rosa picked up the fidget spinner, walked over to Gina’s desk, and handed her the toy. She put it in her top drawer and handed Rosa a five dollar bill without looking up from her phone. Then she reached under the desk and handed the silent woman a small paper bag. Rosa walked back over to Jake’s desk, where he was sitting, frozen, watching the exchange with eyes wide, biting his lip. With a small nod, Rosa handed the bag to Jake. 

“This one can’t fly.” She said gruffly and turned back to her desk. 

Jake peeked into the bag, and pulled out a plastic wrapped spiral. He tugged at the wrapping with his teeth until Charles leaned over and handed him a pair of scissors. Jake finally got the packaging open, and uncoiled the spiral. A piece of paper fluttered out, a sort of tag reading Tangle, Jr., with a list of other products and a website to visit. It was small pieces of hard plastic, alternating red and blue, that snapped together and spun and formed a coil and a circle and Jake sat with a small smile on his face playing with the toy for a few moments. 

Rosa smiled knowingly and walked to a poster in the break room. It was labelled Squad Rules in Amy’s impeccable handwriting, and had a half dozen handwritten “rules” scrawled across it, mostly ignoring the neat lines she had added. Such things as “Gina is not allowed to have a space heater AND a heated blanket - one or the other,” “No talking about your PR while other people are eating ice cream, Terry,” and “Charles is not allowed to pick lunch.” Rosa added a rule under a rule forbidding Hitchcock from talking to his dates on his desk phone in the bullpen. 

“Jake isn’t allowed to have fidget spinners in the bullpen. Or any stim toys with the potential to fly or spin unassisted.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This one is dedicated to @smilesrawsome for being generally dope af. Read their new Adopting Jake series if you, too, like to just cry for a while. 
> 
> I thrive off of kudos and comments, so please be nice! (My tumblr is iamthececimonster, hit me up with requests or just to chat)


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